What We Talk About When We Drink With Tibetans

The first matter in Dharamsala was to confront Indian beer. We chose McLlos pubhardly an ideal Indian venue, the decor of the place being clearly inspired by TGI Fridays, but authenticity matters little to the travel-weary and unshowered. Besides, only two places in McLeod Ganj serve alcohol. McLlos is a three-story monster overlooking the town square, serving up expensive curries and paneer pizzas, and offering a wide selection of Himachal Pradeshs finest brews. Over the entrance hangs a photo of Pierce Brosnan posing with the wait staff, an oddly reassuring sight, though its a stretch to imagine Pierce spending a languid evening pounding back bottles of Thunderbolt Lager. We opt instead for Godfather, and it tastes like fermented hell. Some stylish Tibetans sit down at our table. The Tibetan youth are quite the party animals, it turns out, and lead a cosmopolitan life as far as North Indian hill stations go. Oblivious to the limitations of their surroundings, they live as though McLeod Ganj were NYC. They pile onto noisy motorbikes (often blaring dance music through speakers under the seat), speak English capably, abuse the Indian waitstaff in Hindi, stay out all night with tourists, chat up girls, drink their faces off, dress as sharply as anyone. Their calm, peaceful outward mien, their sharp eyes and Buddhist smiles, seem to melt away under the acid-bath of Indian ale. Bad booze, the great equalizer. One of the Tibetans, Sangye (which means Buddha in Tibetan, I believe), has just returned to Dharamsala after two years spent abroad in Austria, and couldnt be happier about it. He looks around the room excitedly, almost unable to believe hes home. I practically have to strap him to his chair. I love this bar! I love Dharamsala! I love it! I love it! This is the best bar in the world! Jamyang, another Tibetan, buys me a Thunderbolt. Rotten. I notice that the quality of Indian beer varies by the bottle, owing to the complete lack of quality control. Even the shape and colour of the bottles themselves are subject to the laws of chance. Youre as likely to get a green or brown bottle as a clear one, which causes me to consider what other random variables are at work in the breweries of Himachal Pradesh. We drank deeply, we drank hard. We drank with a professional cricket team, and we drank with Austrian hippies and American expats. So swept up in the moment we were, that we neglected to note the closing time of the front gate of our hotel: midnight. It was now well past, and we were locked out. I climbed the gate, as the monkeys do, but it was impossible to reach my room from the balcony. So Sangye brought us back to his place, escorted by packs of yammering street dogs vying for our loyalty, and we all slept on the hard floor of his tiny apartment, underneath posters of Tibetan pop stars and Lenny Kravitz. It was there that Sangye drunkenly, but seriously, gifted me with his personal theology: The main purpose of Buddhism, and of every religion, is to loosen the bowels. Religion allows you to shit freely. Think about it. I had never conceived of religious worship in gastric terms, but I had to admit it warranted further study. The next day, Jamyang took me to his familys cafe on Bhagsu Rd for some Tibetan thentuk (noodle soup). I met a Dutch couple who had taken a six-month leave from their jobs to teach English and study Buddhism at the relevant local institutes here in McLeod. They ran an English conversation class at a local school at the base of the hill, and asked me if I might like to give it a try some time. An hour a day was all they needed, and no qualifications necessary. Sure, why not, I said. I showed up at the school that evening at 5:30 PM, where I was matched with a group of eight students, Tibetan refugees, some newly-arrived, some longtime residents of McLeod Ganj. A few were monks or nuns, and all ages were represented. I sat at the center of a semi-circle and went around the room, trying my best to spread the conversation around equally. A few were better in English than others, and helped those who were having trouble. The monk to my right, in particular, understood almost nothing and got constant verbal cues from the well-dressed girl on my left, whose English was almost fluent. I wondered why she bothered with conversation classes, as she spent most of the class helping the others. But the conversation classes were also a great social institution of the town, and they seemed to be full of Tibetan twentysomethings who were presumably single. I left it at that. I asked the students about their life history, where in Tibet they were from, and how long theyd been in India. A couple of them were born in Dharamsala, others had fled Tibet in childhood. Two of them fled later in life, because theyd been in jail in Tibet for political reasons, distributing leaflets or joining in rowdy protests. The oldest guy in the group, a leather-jacketed man of 38 years, had spent twelve of those years in the slammer. They told me this with a shrug, as if it meant nothing to them, like it was just a part of the Tibetan coming-of-age. The story of the Tibetan exile is a familiar and sad one, and every visitor to Dharamsala hears it, for it is in fact the story of many of the towns residents. Fleeing the oppression and brutality of the Peoples Republic of Chinas military presence in Tibet, the exile makes his way to Lhasa, leaving his family behind, probably for good. From there, they hire a kind of rogue sherpa who takes them on a punishing month-long trek over the Himalayas, through deep forest and under the cover of night so as to avoid snipers. They eat little (one guy told me he ate nothing but boiled grass), sleep barely a wink, suffer severe frostbite and snow blindness and often death, walking tirelessly towards the Nepalese border, where they are received by monks and kept in Kathmandu until they regain their health. From there, they are taken to Dharamsala to meet His Holiness, and brought into a monastery if they so desire, and their life as a refugee begins. Things are much better here, the students insist. They rarely speak of China. Its in the past. Their indifference amazes me. Tibet was once the great terror of Central Asia, the empire of the steppes. There is little of the conqueror in these Tibetans. They seemed to have moved past their own history. Sure, there are political rallies and uprisings in Lhasa, for which the Dalai Lama is typically blamed, but in general they have turn the other cheek (in the direction of the West, as it were). No Tibetan that I met spoke ill about the Chinese as a people, only as a government, and I never once heard a warlike word. The easy answer is that Buddhism played a role in their pacifism, but Buddhism was introduced to Tibet in the 6th century; I doubt that it took fourteen additional centuries to finally settle in. I dont know. I kept going with the conversation classes, but I found a monk to tutor one-on-one instead. Next post is about him. (A note on the publishing schedule of this blog: I realize Im way behind here, but there are lots more posts in the pipeline. Right now Im in a country with little to no Internet access, much of it highly restricted [if I tell you it's in Southeast Asia, I'm sure you can guess the country]. But I am not dead, not even slightly. And this blog will rise from the ashes and terrorize the world anew, but only after Ive had a proper week in a suitably cool place [did I mention it's hot in this part of the world?]. So Ill see you then.)

I am 20 and Fabulous - Best Skin Care Products for 20-something Year Olds

Doesn’t it seem like just about every skin care line focuses most of their attention on anti-aging treatments? I mean, gosh. What about our age group? Our skin needs attention too. So for those of us who were born in the late ‘70’s to mid ‘80’s, here are some skin care products that are suitable for our generation. So, embrace your youth while it lasts, because before we know it, we too will be reaching for Maybelline Age Rewind on the shelves. 1. The Body Shop Vitamin E Cream Cleanser It seems like a mere 15 minutes ago, our moms were commanding us to take our vitamins. Well, hey, they were right. And our skin needs it too. This cream cleanser by The Body Shop is infused with vitamin E, shea butter, and organic soy oil. It compliments any skin type, so it’s gentle enough to use daily. 2. Philosophy Falling In Love Perfumed Body Lotion Is it just me or do a lot of perfumed body lotions lack in the moisturizing department? Um…isn’t that kind of the purpose of body lotion? Well, I’ll keep names to myself for now, but thank God for Philosophy. Their sweet fragrance, Falling In Love also comes in a body lotion that actually moisturizes and conditions the skin, leaving it soft and silky. 3. Mistral Shea Butter I’m a huge fan of multi-purpose beauty products. Not only are they economical, but also it saves more room in my bathroom and cosmetic bag- especially for traveling. Alright, I’ll cut to the chase- this 100% natural white butter comes from a shea tree in Africa. In case you’re unaware, shea butter has amazing healing properties. It solves various skin problems such as chapped lips, dry skin, sunburn, and even hair. 4. Billy Jealousy Wipe Out Eye Cream Puffy eyes and dark circles occur at any age…do post-adolescent hangovers ring a bell? Well, this eye cream by Billy Jealousy is made with lactic acid, which helps alleviate puffiness, and licorice, to help diminish rings around the eyes. Unless you want your new nickname to be Lord of the Rings, perhaps you should give this a try. 5. Clinique Liquid Facial Soap- Extra Mild If you’ve got dry skin, then this is the cleanser for you. The name is pretty self explanatory- it’s mild, so it’s safe to use twice a day. You might also want to consider using its sidekick, Clinique Clarifying Lotion Mild, as the two work well together for dry skin types. 6. Fresh Brown Sugar Body Polish Ah, another one of my beloved multi-purpose beauty items. Pamper your skin with this exfoliator and moisturizer in one. It has a soothing citrus scent and its grainy particles from the brown sugar smooth away impurities and dead skin cells. 7. Not Soap Radio Say It With Suds You’re The Perfect Roommate bath/shower gel Pardon the lengthy name, but is this not the coolest shower gel? It’s the perfect little gift for the perfect roommate (though I’m sad to say that many of you don’t exactly have a great roommate. But, I empathize… good ol’ college days). It has a cherry/almond scent and it’s formulated with natural shea nut oil. So show your appreciation to your roomie in soap form. Mmm…don’t steal a drop when you’re in the shower! ;) Reduce fine lines, wrinkles, and crows feet! Save 20% on your next Botox injection. This miracle in a bottle will knock off ten years! Yep, we 80’s babies are somewhat ignored in the skin care industry. But who cares, right? As you can see, we still have access to awesome products for our face and body. Plus, we just happen to be the object of 30 and 40 somethings’ envy.

Shakespearean Characters in MV

One of the questions in the interview over at Historical Novels was "How many Shakespearean characters are in THE MASTER OF VERONA?" Now, I've thought about how many plays I referenced, but I've never done a strict character count. So I guessed, counting characters off the top of my head, and came to seventeen. But since then I've gone back and done a real count. I could still be missing some, but by my current tally, it's twenty-three. But some of those are really cheating, and no one but me would know about some of them. Here's the list: Plays Referenced: R&J, Shrew, Merchant, Much Ado, M4M, 2 Gents, Macbeth, Caesar, &pA&C. And in one of the short stories, I sneak in a reference to 12th Night as well. Crossover Characters: Prince Escalus (R&J) Mercutio (R&J) Lord Capulet (R&J) Lord Montague (R&J) Lady Montague (R&J) Tybalt (R&J) Friar Lawrence (R&J) Nurse’s Husband (mentioned in R&J) Benedick (Much Ado) Valentine’s Father (mentioned in 2 Gents) Petruchio (Shrew) Kate (Shrew) Ferdinand (mentioned in Shrew) Mentioned, but not Seen: Lady Capulet (R&J) Grumio (Shrew) Lucentio (Shrew) Vincentio (Shrew) Don Pedro (Much Ado) Don John (Much Ado) Shylock (Merchant) Bellario (mentioned in Merchant) Valentine (2 Gents/R&J) Escalus, Prince of Vienna (Measure For Measure) The reference to Valentine and his father is sneaky in the extreme, and really shouldn’t count until the next book, when he truly appears. Lucentio appears only in reference to his father, which is again very sneaky. I made up a name for the Nurse’s Husband, since Shakespeare never gives him one. Same for lady Cap. As you can see, very few of these people appear in the novel under their Shakespearean name. p For the record, I've played nine of these characters onstage.

Five to Go: Here Come the Bile

This will ramble. Don't expect cohesion. Or coherence. As always these opinions are my own, and do not represent the editorial board of The Lance or any of its volunteers.The problem Windsor, I think, is that deep down, you don't really want a student newspaper.I took an office at the Lance in 2004, and am making my exit here four years later, and in that time, I've never found anyone who didn't already work for the paper who had anything good to say about us.You think this is our own fault. You think we bring it upon ourselves with the advertising, the choice of advertisers, wire copy, lazy reportage, sensationalism or any other of the myriad claims made against this newspaper in the past four years. But I am constantly amazed by the venom this publication generates among some people on campus.When the pub got closed, it wasn't long before the targets turned to The Lance. "Why do we give money to a paper we never read? Take that money for the Pub we don't go to." Why not take it from the radio station you never listen to and takes twice as much of your tuition? Nope, never. I can only assume this is because something like CJAM falls into a sort of 'out of sight, out of mind' category. Buried in a far away corner of the CAW Centre, few outside of the station's dedicated staff and volunteers even remember it's there. Whereas The Lance gets plastered all over campus, making it an easy target. People see the stacks of papers littering the cafeteria and assume people are using them as napkins. It's not my fault you people can't use a recycling bin.As far as the other criticisms, allow me to retort.The number of ads: I'll assume something I was told in '04 holds as true today if not moreso: If the paper operated on student fees alone, it would come out once a month. Sad reality: ads are required to keep the paper coming out once a week, in colour. Don't tell to the editors to cut their salaries, they make f**king peanuts as it is, and deserve their meagre sums for the level of work they put into it.The types of ads: At the first national newspaper conference I ever attended, ad policies were the topic of the day. Some felt they were ethically necessary, and refused ads from the military, or tobacco or alcohol or companies with questionable environmental practices. Those were the idealistic students who ran college papers.Others felt they were the most ludicrous ideas they had ever heard, and laughed them off as naive. These were people like Lewis Lapham of Harper's, and Ken Alexander of The Walrus, both of whom were quick to point out that they would take ad money from whoever wanted to hand it over, if it meant getting another issue out. Because these men understood that in the world of print, survival is the highest priority, and gave their readers enough credit to tell the difference between running an ad and making an endorsement.Survival is even more precarious in the world of student publications. The Lance makes ad money from national and local customers. Nationally, ad sales are down across the board on account of the recession [also a reason I'm making my exit]. So we turn to local to hopefully pick up the slack. So if a strip club wants to pay us a grand for a full page ad, if it's the difference between the black and the red, hell yes we'll take it. If it were up to me, there'd be classifieds stuffed with escort ads in the back. But I'm without scruples.Wire copy: I've fought tooth and nail for this, always. You do not live in a bubble. No one thinks they're more globally connected than a university student, yet none of them seem to care about what might be happening at schools across the country. Shut your damn face. One or two wire stories in an eight page news section does not suggest a dearth of local content. Now, when the Opinion section was running wire copy a few weeks ago....THAT suggests a dearth of local content, and serves to strengthen my original thesis: you don't really want this paper.Not that some criticisms are not valid. I can't lie, I've rubbed the bridge of my nose on more than one occasion over the current news section. Local produce? Flu shots? Is this the Amherstburg Echo? I know it's the end of the semester, but damn.And yet I know from experience, if the news editor had run stories more city than school based, there would be a pile of angry emails criticizing the lack of campus-centric content.You do not want this newspaper. Don't even get me started on the oversight committee, some lame-brained misguided endeavour by a crew of legacy grabbing instigators conducted in a fashion even the most peabrained of observers found fault with, and managed to last about half a year before losing its chair. You people care so little about this paper you won't affect change even after you've fought for the right to do so. And the editors are to take you seriously??"Well why the eff do you care, Trail? Your ass is out the door anyway."This is true, and do not misconstrue this as sour grapes. The fact that I still love this newspaper and cherish my time there is why I find all of this so frustrating. Bitching about something and doing nothing to try and improve what you see as problems is a dick move. You complain about ads, but it's not like an increase in student fees would be met with applause [despite not increasing in six years]. You complain about content, but refuse to volunteer or write stories. And this song and dance never changes. It's the nature of campus publishing, known too well to any of us dumb enough to put more than two years into it. By the time you can reach a compromise with anyone, they graduate, and a new crop of rabid young world changers comes storming in and you start with them all over again.You do not care about this newspaper. You do not want this newspaper. It could disappear tomorrow and you would not even notice, and you're too stupid to realize how tragic that would be.

Back in Georgia

From Lee Goodall, the new Georgia State Director for Organizing for America: Since Inauguration Day, Organizing for America has been dedicated to making real the change we fought for during the election. But to be successful, we need to hear from you -- your effort and commitment are the backbone of this movement and this organization. That's why I'm so excited to announce that we're back on the ground in Georgia, and starting this Thursday, April 16th, we'll be hosting Listening Tour Town Halls across the state.Will you make your voice heard and join us on the Listening Tour? At Listening Tour meetings, you'll get a chance to meet new state staff members, hear about some lessons learned during the general election, and offer your thoughts on how we can organize Georgia going forward. Your ideas will be used to write a Georgia-specific plan for Organizing for America in 2009 and beyond. The campaign brought an unprecedented number of new voices into the process -- we need to make sure those voices remain at the center of the debate as the President and Congress work on providing solutions for our economy. But these meetings are not just for folks who were involved in the campaign -- we're hopeful that every Georgian will get involved. We can't stop growing our movement now. We've never had a better opportunity to shape our future -- and just like during the election, we'll do it from the bottom up. Sign up now to attend a Listening Tour event.I look forward to seeing you, Lee Lee Goodall Georgia State Director Organizing for America P.S. -- If you can't make it to a Listening Tour event, you can still get involved with Organizing for America in Georgia. Let us know how you'd like to see Georgia organized.

When Funny Isn't Really Funny

Farris and Rogan in "Observe and Report" - Judy Holliday and Walter Matthau for the New Millennium? Seth Rogan turns in something of a major performance in Jody Hill's "Observe and Report," playing a character nearly as messed up as the movie surrounding him. This is unexpected and yet it really isn't.Rogan came to movies a fully-formed character actor, despite mentor Judd Apatow's misguided attempt to foist him on us a leading man in "Knocked Up." He's a budding Walter Matthau and, from where I sit, he and Jonah Hill are ready for a Gen-X update of "The Odd Couple."Jody Hill, meanwhile, is a filmmaker with a lot of great ideas rattling around his head, the best of which was to see the sublime Anna Farris as the new-age Judy Holliday and cast her opposite Rogan. Hopefully, Rogan's next film will be advertized as "Rogan's Back ... and Farris's Got Him." I could watch these two forever. But, oy, then there's this movie. Wait 'til you see it. "Observe and Report" is the kind of "comedy" (I'm going to sound very old now) that expects us to laugh at characters and situations that aren't remotely funny. And I guess that we do laugh. Nervously."Observe and Report" has attracted the kind of reviews in which the critic in question has felt obliged to call the film "funny" but with some kind of modification. My favorite: "Numbingly funny." (I won't identify the critic.)Personally, I'd opt for "squirmingly funny."Since I retired as a working critic, I am fond of commenting to my wife after just about every other movie I see, "I liked it but I have absolutely nothing to say about it." I mean, take "The Reader" as a case in point. Prestige film, right? Yet, I would find it living hell to have to write about it.But "Observe and Report" is one of those seemingly nothing movies that makes me feel terminally opinionated. In it, Rogan plays an all-too-familiar modern male figure suffering from what I call testosterone poisoning. Rogan's Ronnie Barnhardt is a pathetic, self-deluded loser who uses his expendable position as security chief at the depressingly typical Forest Ridge Mall to run roughshod over people - mostly other workers at the mall, most minority workers. Almost immediately, "Observe and Report" positions itelf as an edgy social comedy/social commentary.And, initially, it works on that level. But the problem here is that (1) there is only one character who is even remotely sympathetic (a sweet woman named Nell, played by Collette Wolfe) and (2) Hill has little else but contempt for these characters (sweet Nell included). Even Ronnie's mother (Celia Weston) with whom he still lives, doesn't get off here. She's a flatout drunk who brags that she's "f****d" all of Ronnie's friends.After a while, as the worthless Ronnie abuses a series of equally worthless victims, the film becomes, well, squirmingly funny.The dubious moral of all of this: People are crap.Note in Passing: In real-life, Ronnie wouldn't be even remotely amusing. There's an on-going case in Riverside, Ca. regarding a lost puppy named Karley (right) that was being returned to its owners by a neighbor when another neighbor - a gung-ho, take-charge, authoritarian firefighter - stepped in and took over, only to eventually beat the puppy to death when it didn't want to go with him. Karley suffered a cracked skull in three places; her nasal cavity and ear canal were crushed, and she lost an eye. She had to be euthanized. Check out this sad case on Justice4Karley. No, a man like Ronnie Barnhardt is no laughing matter.

Bug bag

Conservative Milbloggers Begin Speaking Out Against DADT

Dan Choi is an effective advocate for the movement to repeal the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" law because he's not only an articulate West Point graduate and an Arabic linguist, but he's also walked the walk as an infantry officer in the streets of Iraq. In fact, his breadth of experience allows him to highlight just how ridiculous the DADT policy is in 2009 because he's a soldier's soldier--as evidenced by the support he's received from the troops in his own unit. So, with Dan leading the way--while also providing political and philosophical cover--we're beginning to see more conservative milbloggers come out in favor of a repeal of DADT. Take Uber Pig writing at Blackfive on Friday for instance: Word on the street is that Baron Von Steuben was gay. Also, I'm pretty sure if you read some of that greek stuff, you'll find there were some gay dudes hanging out in phalanxes. My position has long been that gay dudes have the same duty to serve as breeders, and that shouldn't be interfered with. Uncle Jimbo, of course, outed himself almost three years ago with the same opinion. And even if a majority of active duty folks disagree with us on this, they'd be at least a little bit troubled by the case of Dan Choi. Dan is apparently an excellent Arabic linguist who has served in harsh environments, is a graduate of West Point, is respected by his fellow soldiers, loves his unit, and has sworn to defend his country with his life. He's not like some of the guys I know of who used their newly found sexuality as a means to leave the Army before their term was up. There are no charges of improper relationships between him and a subordinate. The only complaint is that he went on national TV and didn't lie about his sexuality. According to Aaron Belkin, Obama can, at any time, suspend the implementation of Don't Ask, Don't Tell. Doing so would save the career of what appears to be a good man. So you know what? It's time for Obama to put his money where his mouth is. Uber Pig took some heat in the comments, but he's also writing on the same site which saw his conservative colleague Uncle Jimbo call for a repeal of DADT two and a half years ago--as Uber Pig mentioned above. Back then, Uncle Jimbo had this to say: My view is that since there are currently a number of gay troops and little difficulty due to their presence, there is no need for the ban. We have effectively progressed beyond the point where most members of the military even care about sexual orientation in any way that would preclude them working side by side with gay people. But it didn't end with Uber Pig's remarks at Blackfive on Friday morning. By Friday afternoon, The Sniper had publicly joined the "repeal" crowd at his conservative milblog: I'm sure I'll get some hate mail for this or even lose some readers. . . I don't care. I'm standing with Uber-pig and Uncle Jimbo from Blackfive on this one... if they want to serve, let them serve. Bad behavior (like this) will be dealt with on a case by case via the UCMJ. But I doubt that will be commonplace. I once knew a guy who was an excellent linguist (and no, not all linguists are gay) but he was gay and when he came out of the closet he wanted to be honest so he told the command. He wanted to serve, he just didn't want to be a liar. They railroaded him for two years, tried to make him out other gays, relegated him to driving a bus (a waste of his language skills), and then when he was two months out from an honorable discharge they tried to screw him over by giving him a gay-out discharge which would have stripped him of his benefits... after serving his four years the best he could. He wisely hired a lawyer who promised a PR nightmare and years of court battles for the Command and the army so they gave up. He was a lucky one. This BS needs to stop. All it takes is stroke of the pen. Obama's got that pen. Make it stop. Dan Choi is the type of officer America's Army needs. And he's the type we can ill afford to lose. That's hard to deny--and it's even more irrefutable for those who've had to deal with tricky situations in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Who out there wants to say they wouldn't go to war with this guy simply because he's gay? Not many Iraq and Afghanistan vets, that's for sure. And that's why we're beginning to see veterans coalesce around the movement to repeal the DADT law--regardless of their views on other political issues. It's outdated, it hurts readiness, and those who've been there can see this.

July / August itinerary advice please

Hello I will be travelling to India with my wife in July for 3 weeks and am trying to focus our plans! We have both visited India before (Agra, Jaipur, Delhi, Himachal Pradesh, Bangalore, Kerala) and so would like to try some new places and stay as dry as possible during the monsoon. We like to see places and experience some culture but also have some time to relax. We are 30 and 29 years old and are happy to stay in some basic places but also like some nights of affordable luxury! We fly into Mumbai and out from Delhi. I spent 6 months in Bangalore in 1997/98 and so would like to return to the south - appreciating this is not the direct route from Mumbai to Delhi! Our preliminary idea is to head south for a couple of weeks and focus on Tamil Nadu as this is new territory for both of us before going north for our final few days staying with friends in Delhi. I have a few questions... 1. Is TN a good bet for avoiding the monsoon as much as possible? 2. Is it easy to book train tickets in the arrivals area at Mumbai airport? We arrive at 11am on a Sunday. The web booking process from overseas seems tricky! We would probably overnight in Mumbai but ideally don't want to spend much time there sorting out onward travel having spent too long in Mumbai on our last trip battling with Gulf Air. 3. Or are domestic flights with Jet, Spicejet etc the best way to travel long distances? These weren't available as much last time we were in India. 4. Is it viable to make a stop at Hampi en-route from Mumbai to Karnataka / TN? 5. In Tamil Nadu we are interested in Kodaikanal, Madurai, Trichy, Kanchipuram, Mammalapuram and Pondicherry. Any tips on these places, travel between or other suggestions? 6. Does anyone have other tips for relaxing (ideally beach based) destinations? 7. How easy is it to fly north from Bangalore or Chennai to Rajasthan (Jaipur or Jaisalmer) to have a few days there before getting the train to Delhi? 8. I would love to see Ajanta and Ellora but think that this would be too much given our time scale! 9. ATM's were fairly reliable in 2002 but we still took travellers cheques. Are TCs now a waste of time? I know this is a long list of queries but appreciate any advice people can give. Thanks James

The Dangerous Summer

For this week's soapbox feature - I have an extra special treat for you: A brand new song from The Dangerous Summer. The band's new album comes out May 5th, and if you haven't heard of these guys yet ... you soon will. You can stream the new song "Where I Want To Be" below this post and check out the album artwork for the single here. Like what you hear? You can download the song on iTunes. This is one of the first pop-rock bands we've been excited about in a while. There seems to be a pretty good staff consensus that they do the sound the right way with a distinct lack of neon and a whole lot of what made us fall in love with this genre in the first place. The Dangerous Summer - "Where I Want To Be"

what fun

I hate Waste Watch!Not that the idea isn't noble. It is. Even a bitter old wench like myself will admit that.It's just that the whole system forces one type of personality on the masses.That personality is: the neatnik.The clutter reducer. The keep on top of it aller. The cleaner upper right awayer.This I am decidedly not. Or at least, was not.What about us hoarders? We are left to strangle in our own, um, hoards.Because that teensy tiny little black cart is picked up only once every two weeks. You can barely fit three bags in the damned thing. And you have to chop up furniture with an axe. Assuming you can find an axe under the clutter.I am not the neatnik. Or rather, I wasn't the neatnik. Until last week.I have this huge monstrous house. Too huge for me, hubby, and three dogs, but it is what it is.I also have a tendency to hoard. And to love various men (and a child) who liked, and still like, to drag home interesting finds with the thought of "future use for these seven perfectly good bricks" before storing them away with all their other found junk.Over 10 years, that crap builds up. To the point that one tiny little black bin can't even take the tip of the iceburg off.Last week, I rented a waste bin. The great, big, black Superiour Sanitation kind that you see outside of construction sites. Or rather, The Boy rented it for me, and had it delivered at 8 a.m., with instructions thus delivered: "I have ordered the second largest bin they have. You have ONE WEEK Mom! Get going!"Each morning, the Boy awoke me with a wake-up call: at approximately 8:13 a.m. "You have one week Mom. Get going!" Then we would have a long happy chat about other stuff.And then I got going.The first day, I was not very efficient. I would sit down on the floor and kind of read through every old letter, mither over every old book, look at that dusty old satin flower, wax nostalgic over that shoulder padded suit, and think: "But what if I need this at some future date?"I very quickly got over that.I realized how much unadulterated fun it was to be actually allowed to legally throw stuff away. I would make old tv's CRASH in that bin. VCR's? Screw their parts. They made a lovely tang against the side of the bin. Clothes from 1985? Who would ever wear them anyway? GONE!! Have I actually looked at this mouse eaten book in seven years? Zing. . . Cassette tapes? Cassette tapes? Who cares if its John Prine! Bye-Bye!Every morning, The Boy would phone. Every day, I would slaughter the junk.Saturday, The Boy came over with his buddy to do "his room". It too, hadn't been looked at for five years in the hope that he might need that stuff some day.At first, he waxed nostalgic. I warned him this would happen, as he fingered that signed Bill Cosby photograph and looked at the speakers him and his buds had hooked up seven years ago for that fabulous party, of which the "entrance fee bottle" was still duct taped to the entrance desk.He got over it quickly, too.All day, we zinged and smashed and zanged and crashed, into that black bin. Even the remnants of his silly closet-grow-op, the one I had no idea about until I stumbled across the light under his closet door three months in, was gone to the posterity of memory.We did find some treasures: I had forgotten where they were.That they even existed, in fact.For example, the little teensy jumper that I took him home from the hospital in.A photograph of his Dad's 1969 Barracuda convertible.Three of his baby blankies, with "ribbies" (the satin edges that he so needed) intact.My grandmother's diary from 1942.My diary from 1986..Those things did not go into the bin.Exactly one week later, the bin was picked up. It was full to the brim.My house now echoes. Literally echoes.My and The Boy did the math and determined that at the rate of Waste Watch Black Bin pick up, it would have taken three years to do this. But of course, by then I would have lost my initiative.What will I miss?My daily wake-up call from The Boy.But I can still do that, even without a bin. Right?

How to Retain/Preserve "Modified By" while checking in a file

SPSite mySite = new SPSite(""); SPWeb myWeb = mySite.OpenWeb(); SPFolder myList = myWeb.Folders[""]; SPFile myFile = myList.Files[0]; SPUser myUser = myWeb.Users[""]; CheckInFileByUser(myFile, "Checkin Comments", SPCheckinType.MajorCheckIn, myUser); public static void CheckInFileByUser(SPFile file, string checkinComment,SPCheckinType checkinType,SPUser modifiedByUser) { MethodInfo mi = typeof(SPFile).GetMethod("CheckIn",BindingFlags.Instance BindingFlags.NonPublic, null, new Type[] { typeof(string), typeof(SPCheckinType), typeof(bool), typeof(SPUser) }, null); try { mi.Invoke( file, new object[] { checkinComment, checkinType, false, modifiedByUser }); } catch (Exception ex) { MessageBox.Show(ex.StackTrace); } } Before calling this code you will need to Check out the file, otherwise you will get an error.

Sin aqua non

Water shortages are a growing problem, but not for the reasons most people thinkTHE overthrow of Madagascars president in mid-March was partly caused by water problemsin South Korea. Worried by the difficulties of increasing food supplies in its water-stressed homeland, Daewoo, a South Korean conglomerate, signed a deal to lease no less than half Madagascars arable land to grow grain for South Koreans. Widespread anger at the terms of the deal (the islands people would have received practically nothing) contributed to the presidents unpopularity. One of the new leaders first acts was to scrap the agreement.Three weeks before that, on the other side of the world, Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger of California declared a state of emergency. Not for the first time, he threatened water rationing in the state. It is clear, says a recent report by the United Nations World Water Assessment Programme, that urgent action is needed if we are to avoid a global water crisis.

Many die in Turkey wedding attack

At least 45 people have been killed in an attack on a wedding party in south-eastern Turkey, officials say.
Mask-wearing assailants opened fire with automatic rifles and grenades, officials in Mardin province said.
The area, near the border with Syria, has been plagued by fighting between Kurdish separatists and government troops for 25 years.
But Turkey's Interior Minister Besir Atalay said the attack did not appear to be a "terror event".
Local media have suggested the violence might have been the result of a blood feud or an argument between guests.
Other unconfirmed reports said the wedding guests included members of a militia who help troops to fight Kurdish rebels.

I'm Leaving San Francisco

Updated with some photos!I don't think it's unique to San Francisco, because I think this is (or could be) true for anyone who's found a place that makes them feel like they can and should and have to be themselves. I don't doubt that for some people, that place is where they grew up. Maybe for some people it's college. Or maybe some find it in a foreign country.I put myself back together in San Francisco.If you'll indulge my blogging-as-therapy for a few paragraphs...I was a happy and confident kid. And then life got bumpy in middle school, bumpier in high school, and was a mess by college (for both me and for my family). Maybe, probably, that's how it goes for everyone.Or maybe not.But I suspect we all reach a point where we think WAIT A SECOND. THIS IS NOT RIGHT. HOW DID I GET...HERE?And that's when you begin the process of putting your first 20, 25, maybe 30 years in context. THIS was good. THIS was bad. THIS was me. THIS was not. Stripping out the falsehoods we learned or tried on or insisted we were. BONK! Wrong. I got to SF with all these pieces of me, many broken, in an undefined mass. I have been rebuilding since. And what I love so much about San Francisco is that I never felt I was supposed to come out any sort of way. I've never felt pressure to have an office job or to get married and have kids. I've never felt pressure not to.Perhaps it's not unique to San Francisco, and maybe I would have discovered the same things in Detroit or Aruba or San Antonio. I just think SF was the place I most wanted to be...and so it was the place I needed to be.About the second week I lived here, I saw a woman on her way to work. She was wearing a black suit with a messenger bag/briefcase slung over her shoulder and had striking silver hair. She was on a scooter, gliding down a hill with her suit whipping in the breeze.You just do your thing. SF is cool with it.And so yes. I've done my thing. I've done my Broadway Best, singing my heart out at Martuni's piano bar, when I was the only woman and so had to do all the female parts in our Les Miz medley while standing on a stool before closing the place down (afterward, drunk patrons asked if I'd actually been on Broadway, and while I had to tell them, uh, no?, I've honestly never felt so talented in my life). I've seen the fireworks from the top of the Art Institute. I've only been to Coit Tower once, but that was for my a cappella group's photo shoot for Real Simple Magazine. I've been under the Golden Gate bridge in a wooden fishing boat. I've spent an afternoon in the Beat writers' bar, Vesuvio, next to City Lights Bookstore while scribbling in a notebook and drinking whiskey.I've worn a LOT of costumes.I am Cindy Lou Who and Tony is a Christmas Elf. Obviously.I've been to Halloween in the Castro and the Folsom Street Fair and the Gay Pride parade.I protested the war.Sometime, probably October of 2003. I protested often.I attended a semester of classes at SF State. I've had dinner at the city's top-rated restaurant twice (so far), and eaten the Tamale Lady's tamales at Zeitgeist .One time at Zeitgeist, a group of naked cyclists showed up. Just because it's San Francisco and after a hard morning of cycling and protesting, even naked bike-riders need beer. The crappy quality of the photo is A) because I took it with my old camera phone and B) I wanted to be surreptitious about it. Didn't want to be RUDE or anything.I've performed stand-up comedy.I helped invent the "boobie shot."I learned to knit.I've had my butt mentioned in a local newspaper.I've been a regular with my crazy group of trivia fans at the Edinburgh Castle's trivia night.An overexposed photo from The First Trivia NightI've made great friends; some who've moved despite themselves, some who've stayed despite themselves (many, not surprisingly, from the East Coast).Missy & Dan -- May they one day return to the Bay Area.Lisa (w/Ish) -- So glad she didn't give up on SF.I've kissed girls (don't knock it till you've tried it).El_G with S.O., just after the "new" bar Vertigo had opened. Also overexposed, because apparently that's how I roll.I've had a bunch of crazy, weird, great jobs.The 'hos. This was at my going-away happy hour. Perhaps it should be noted that I was working at this company when I started blogging. Since this photo, I still chat regularly with Liz (far left), Francis has had two babies, I'm no longer blond, and (Pink)Jaime remains one of my best friends. Mostly I love that this photo does nothing for anyone but me. Muahahahaha.I've had my heart broken.And I've found the love of my life.Taken by Ish with his camera phone. I love it for its impromtu-ness.Oh, and me. I found me, too.The list goes on and on, and I'm grateful it does. It is long and it is more varied than I ever, ever dreamed it would be, back when I wasn't sure I'd even last a year in California.Me and a martini the size of my head. Not entirely sure where. Really, this could be many, many, many, many places.And so here it is:I love living in the city and I have loved living in this city, and I feel full now. Whole. I got my shit together (at least, as much as I could; I am well aware that this is an ongoing process) and that's what I wanted to do here.The Tamale Lady was just a bonus.I'm ready for the next adventure. The one with a husband I couldn't be crazier about and a child I can't wait to meet.I still don't know a damn thing about the furnace and maybe I'll learn and maybe I won't. I won't resent or fear its very existence, however. I won't dread the trips to Home Depot or hate non-city living simply because it is. I may even come to appreciate things like having a driveway, or a front door that doesn't require me to step around a homeless person to get to, or wondering if my upstairs neighbor's rave will end before my alarm clock goes off.I'm not moving to a house in the suburbs instead of having a life in the city; I'm moving to the suburbs with all the experiences of having had a life in the city. Hoo boy. And that has made all the difference. (Maybe I'll be worthy of head-shaking from the domesticated neighbors who feel bad for my house-owning cluelessness, but I don't care in the least. I bet they never sang at the top of their lungs on a barstool at Martuni's.)It almost doesn't matter where I go next. I feel confident that wherever it is, it'll feel like home. Because, yes, my husband and child will be there. But so will I be, the whole whole of me.And for now, Napa seems absolutely lovely.Our new home.We move Friday. Not sure there will be much blogging in the meantime, but I added some photos to this post for fun. (Can you tell I've been cleaning up old files?) Please note: If you are not featured in these photos, it is not because I don't love you. It is more likely because I haven't unearthed that particular folder yet.